Sage Hill Incident Report

​Rene Falquier 

Site: Sage Hill
​1-18-2021

Sage Hill is a non-maintained flying site in the Santa Ynes Valley, north of Santa Barbara. The takeoff sits on a spine that protrudes perpendicularly from the north side of the east-to-west running valley. The launch is therefore west facing into the westward valley wind. Local conditions were very protected from the influence of the prevalent Santa Anas that were battering SoCal at the time, and this was a primary factor in site choice. Conditions were considered typical, if a little on the strong side, per local guidance.

Like many incidents, mine followed a chain of flawed decisions/mistakes before the "primary one". I am embarrassed to admit that some of these were very rookie mistakes. There is an undeniable element of complacency and intermediate syndrome in this incident. 

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​Acknowledgments

Dan Zaslavasky and Razi Alon witnessed the incident and were crucial contributors to a thorough and honest debrief. Their inputs and insights were indispensable in the writing of this report. 

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Report

Going into the day, I was tired from the day before, somewhat dehydrated, and held a sense of skepticism about the site I had chosen to fly but committed to taking a look with no qualms about hiking back down. After assessment of conditions on launch (~30 minutes spent on launch before making a decision/unpacking), it seemed within the limits of my skill and relative comfort while recognizing an above-average risk factor and a lower risk-reward factor than I usually take. In retrospect, I also recognize a more distracted mental state than my baseline due to high stress in my non-paragliding life.

​I set up on the slope of the spine, rather than the top of it. This made sense to me at the time because I wanted to avoid being in the compression on the top of the spine due to the strong conditions. I forgot to consider that on the slope, you can get plucked rather than dragged. On some launches, a gust can mean getting inadvertently plucked. On others, a gust can mean a dragging - on all launches, it is better to avoid both while considering the respective probability and consequence of each. In retrospect, this particular launch had a large grassy slope with a gentle gradient behind launch and presented low impact in case of being dragged. My decision to launch on the slope was therefore suboptimal from this standpoint. There is also less debris up top than on the slope.

Another mistake was to try and hook up and clear my lines in the takeoff area as opposed to doing this in a more sheltered place, which there was. I should not have been on takeoff unless I was one hundred percent ready to go. Being on launch, regardless of the type of launch, means EVERYTHING has to be ready to go. ​

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I had originally set up for a cobra launch and asked fellow pilot Dan Zaslavasky to help me with getting the wingtip into the airstream it was later determined that I had not made it sufficiently clear what I wanted Dan to help with at this point. The cobra was not working for me, so I chose a traditional reverse launch instead and had a nice wall built up but saw a stick in my lines, which Dan helped me clear. There was a lot of potential for more debris to be captured upon inflation in the particular space I was occupying.

I inflated my wing from a reverse launch position during a relative lull in the base wind, and as far as my memory serves me, the wing came up completely clean: free of debris and with no cravats/line overs. The cycle felt weird, and I insisted on kiting my wing as I did not want to set it down and risk picking up debris again. In retrospect, I should have just put the wing down, and I think this was the key mistake. As I was turning, I took a sizeable deflation on the left side, which caused some adverse yaw/roll towards the left side of the wing. This was followed by a smaller deflation on the right, which popped right back open.

A gust came through right after this moment and picked me up as Dan was yelling that I had a cravat on my left side wingtip, likely from the aforementioned large deflation on the ground. I completely failed to identify it between the moment the deflation occurred and getting picked up by the gust. My flight was thus initiated with the cravat engaged on my left-side wingtip. ​

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​I immediately focused on steering my glider and keeping it open/flying. I had an acceptable glide to the main LZ (which was large, grassy, and open) but with compromised penetration into the wind and an increased sink rate. There were some power lines I would need to cross just before the LZ. I committed to trying the main LZ while keeping an eye on the power lines knowing I could effectively steer into the wind (i.e. towards my right) with the open right-hand side and therefore abort the crossing over the power lines if needed. Aborting would have meant a tree landing, but this seemed acceptable relative to my options.  

I considered other options on my glide. There was a large field behind me, but it was in the lee of the takeoff spine, and setting up would have required a downwind turn toward the cravat side and then counter steering back into the wind with the open side or some other combination of inputs that could have caused a stall, a spin, or an auto-rotation. I could have also aimed for the narrow, winding, mostly dry riverbed below, but this would have also led to a likely tree landing. Trying the main LZ while being mindful of the power lines seemed like a better option. I generally avoided steering in the direction of the cravat because I wasn't convinced I could counter-steer using the open side without stalling/spinning the wing. 

​In-flight, my priority was to maintain my heading, but I did attempt to clear the cravat with my stabilo line, and the left side A's / B's. The cravat did not budge, and I decided against more aggressive inputs (like big break pumps, spin-touch, or tail slide) due to my low terrain clearance. At one point, I tried a big ear on the open side to balance the cravat, but this was a mistake. It highly increased my sink rate, killed my glide, and made my glider feel less stable. I had to lightly pump out the big ear wingtip on my right side, and soon after it opened, I took a small deflation on that same side. The wing reopened with a slight dive before I could reach for my reserve. I still had terrain clearance but considered throwing my reserve anyway as I felt that if I took another deflation, it might result in a ground impact. The wing felt stable over my head, and I still had a good heading as well as an acceptable glide to the LZ, so I pressed on but recognized that there was a huge element of luck at play. I could not afford any further flawed inputs. 

I kept a close eye on the power lines. I had acceptable clearance, so I committed to crossing over them. It was not by a hair but still closer than ideal. Once over the main LZ all it took was a slight adjustment into the wind for my final, and I came down lightly and on my feet. Upon depowering the wing, the cravat came out. 

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Fellow pilot Razi Alon suggested two alternative possibilities for the cravat:

• The first possibility he suggested was that Dan might have inadvertently caused a line over when he was helping me with my cobra mess.
• The second possibility he suggested was that setting up on the steep section of the hill and building a wall there could have caused the front lines to be taught during pre-launch wall but not the back lines – and that these could have created the cravat once they tightened up during inflation.

​While these hypotheses are very much worth considering in the given context, I distinctly remember a clean wall and the whole wing being open and free of line-overs or cravats when I brought it up. Furthermore, I suspect a line over would have taken more effort to clear than just depowering the wing upon landing. As such, I do not suspect that this is what happened in this particular case, but it doesn't change that it very well could have happened that way in a similar situation. Regardless, these hypotheses add weight to the reminder that I am responsible for clearing my lines and that extra diligence is required in unmaintained launches with lots of debris. 

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This was all a considerable mistake that should not have happened, and there was a lot of luck in making it back on the ground safely. My skills only kept me barely outside the margin of a bad accident. This is not an acceptable margin. There is an ego component, a complacency component, a headspace component, a bad practice component, and a skills component in this story. It will be wise for me to pay heed to the lessons learned.

Lessons / Takeaways / Reminders:

• Clearing my lines and hooking up in a safe place. Not on launch where a gust can inadvertently start my flight before I am ready.
• Taking off on un-maintained sites require extra diligence because of all the tangle and debris potential.
• Launching on a slope means pluck potential, launching in a compression means drag potential. I need to weigh out the consequences of these possibilities in the context of each takeoff while aiming for neither to happen.
• I should always aim to take off one hundred percent independently, but I should not let my ego get in the way of asking for help if it can benefit the situation.
  • If I do ask for help, I must be diligent about clearly communicating what I need help with.
    • If I feel that I need help to launch, I should consider that I likely do not have the appropriate skills for the day in the first place and not let my ego get in the way of backing off.
• If there is a deflation while kiting/bringing the wing up, it may be best to kill the wing rather than try to kite through it. I need to double-check each wing tip visually and not take for granted that it reopened clean.
  • I need to double-check a clean wing before making the commitment to take off if anything happened between inflation and feet leaving the ground. A depower may be the best option for doing so.
    • Good practice on mountain launches, especially if gusty and thermic, is to not stand around kiting precisely because a gust or dust devil can come through.
• Balancing a cravat with a big ear on the opposite side highly increases the sink rate and gives less steering authority.
• Prior experience dealing with cravats in controlled environments for SIV / acro situations was indispensable in successfully dealing with this incident.
• Despite the skills that I got to call on, there was a considerable element of luck in the outcome.
• Minding my headspace is crucial, and I need to check-in before leaving the house for a day of flying. 

Open Questions:

• Would it have been a safer option to throw?
• I never got into my harness as I was focused on the cravat and heading. Would it have been a good thing for my glide and authority to get in the harness?